


Don’t Call Me Son

by Pending_Semantics



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Guilt, Unreliable Narrator, but he wont let himself have one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pending_Semantics/pseuds/Pending_Semantics
Summary: “Come here, son.” Bruce said as he walked into the open doorway and pulled his grieving boy close to his chest.“D-don’t call me that.”
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Don’t Call Me Son

**Author's Note:**

> Dick is feeling guilty for not believing Tim that Bruce was alive. He is an angsts boi with a fear of failure.

Dick got up from his bed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for the last week since Bruce’s return. He remembered when Bruce had first arrived back and Dick saw his father step out of the batmobile. Tim had been glaring at him as he helped Bruce out of the vehicle, challenging Dick. Letting him know just how wrong he was, that Dick should have believed him, that he should have done more to help bring Bruce home. Dick could only stand awestruck, not registering what was happening before him. Bruce’s hair was long with grey running through it. His cheeks were sunken in and his muscles were smaller from malnutrition, but it was Bruce. It was his father, home at last. And he had done nothing to help, even worse he had tried to prevent it. What kind of son does that?

  
Drawing a hand down his face, Dick walked over to his dresser and roughly pulled out his clothes and stuffed them into a duffle bag. He grabbed the keys to his bike and a letter for Damian he had written earlier that day. Dick was starting to get used to the feeling of cement in his stomach. Bruce had needed his help and he had wasted precious time. Running around playing dress-up in his father’s clothes. Parading around in shoes that were woefully too big for him. Pretending to be able to hold this family together, when it was his actions that had prolonged Bruce’s return. Pretending that it was the right thing to do, that moving forward with their lives was the best option. Pretending he knew what the right calls were. He was a farce, and all that he had tried to accomplish over the last months meant nothing. It was clear that he couldn’t stay here, he had no right.

  
Moonlight decorated the hallway when Dick emerged from the bedroom. With practiced footfalls Dick made his way to Damian’s room. The door was ajar and when Dick stuck his head in, the room was empty. Damian’s bed was empty, except for the small white and black cat that was curled around itself on the throw blanket. The little boy Dick had grown to think of as his own was nowhere to be seen. He slipped into the room and gently placed the note on the sketchbook sitting on the nightstand. Giving the cat a soft glance, Dick exited the bedroom.

  
There was one last room to visit before Dick could commence with his plans. The door to the master bedroom hung open. An invitation for those who sought out Bruce’s comfort in the middle of the night. When Dick was younger he would take that invitation and would sink into Bruce’s embrace when nightmares tormented his sleep. Letting Bruce’s steady breathing lull him to sleep, knowing that Bruce would be there to catch him.

  
Dick stood in the crack of the doorway, half his face illuminated by the light of the moon. He looked into the room. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw Bruce lying in his bed accompanied by both Damian and Tim. The only time Dick had seen them together without both trying to kill each other. It was a wholesome display that he had no right to be a witness to, he felt like a stranger. He stood silently in the doorway for a minute more, before tearing his eyes away and turning towards the landing.

  
“Dick?” He stopped at Bruce’s soft whisper. There was a squeak and shuffle as Dick heard feet slip out of bed and onto the floor. Dick set his duffle bag beside the double doors out of sight from Bruce before turning and meeting his father in the doorway. Bruce’s hair was disheveled and his eyes were stiff with sleep.

  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Dick said, a smile adorning his face. Bruce stepped closer, his eyes examining his own. Detective skills analyzing for every detail and tell. Looking too deeply into tumultuous blue depths that would reveal too much. His jaw tightened and he bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He was so thankful to have his father back in his life, but it hurt knowing that he didn’t deserve it.

  
“Come here, son.” Bruce said as he walked into the open doorway and pulled his grieving boy close to his chest.

  
“D-don’t call me that.” Dick spat, head falling forward as his forearms began to push Bruce away from him. Water filled his eyes and blurred the wooden planks underneath his feet. Before Bruce’s return, Dick would have given anything to hear those words. He would have clung onto them and blindly put faith in them. He would have worn them on his heart and sought them out on nights when the world was too much. Now, the words still clung, but with weighted chains. Still on his heart, but bearing down with doubt and guilt. No matter how hard Dick tried to claw out of their grasp they remained, a constant reminder that he was unworthy. Because a son would have known. Tim knew. Tim knew all along, and if it hadn’t been for Dick’s persuading, Jason and Damian would have known too. But Dick decided it was best to forget and move on. Like the ingrate he was. Falsely living in his father’s house. Using his money, wearing his suit, raising his child. Usurping the family that Bruce worked so hard to build. No, he was no son. Bile rose in the back of Dick’s throat.

  
“Please don’t...I’m not. I- I can’t be…” Dick saw the look of disappointment fill Bruce’s face as the words fell out of his mouth. Bruce reached out to brush away a rogue tear on his sunken cheekbone. Slowly moving his arms down to hold onto Dick’s shaking shoulders.

  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.” Bruce spoke softly.

  
“No, you didn’t. It’s me who’s overstepped.” Dick curled further into himself. Silent sobs rattling in his chest as he tried to pull away from Bruce’s hold, but Bruce’s arms held strong. Attempting to pull him back into his embrace, but Dick was reluctant. Dick was undeserving, so he pulled back harder.

  
“I’m not sure I understand, chum.” Bruce stood in front of his eldest son, trying to get on the same page. “If you're talking about what you did while I was…away, I admit there are some things I would have done differently. But that’s to be expected. Dick you did the best you could given the circumstances.”  
Bruce once again took a step closer to Dick, “Look at me Dick, what’s this about?”

  
“I can’t.” Dick’s head remained downcast. “ I-I can’t look at you. Every time I see your face all I can think about is how badly I failed you.” Dick felt the words burn his throat like stomach acid, bitter and acrid. Those thoughts had been churning far too long in his mind and were now determined to let the world know. They wanted to spew themselves across the hardwood floor, to bare themselves before Bruce’s feet in a desperate need for forgiveness. Bruce knelt down so he could make eye contact with the younger male.

  
“Oh, chum. It’s not your fault. There was nothing you could’ve-“ Dick’s glare cut him short.

  
“Stop lying.” Dick seethed, self hatred roiling in his gut. Bruce could try to sugar coat his mistakes, write them off as ignorance, forgive him for moving on without him; but it would all be a lie. It would be too easy to just accept Bruce’s words; but if the deal is too sweet, there is shit in the sugar. He could pretend that it wasn’t there, but again it would be a falsehood.

  
“Tim was right, and I pushed him away. You needed our help and I turned my back on any signs that you were still alive.” Dick broke eye contact, continuing his adjudication. “ I didn’t want to hope, because if it wasn’t real I don’t think I could have handled that. I was being selfish and trying to protect my own feelings. You were alive and I denied the facts presented to me.” Dick hated the sound of his own voice.

  
Why was he telling Bruce this? Bruce didn’t need this at the moment. Was Dick really so caught up in his own turmoil that he had forgotten that Bruce was dealing with his own problems as well. And here he was, a sniveling child. Stupid. Any action he took at the moment felt wrong. He didn’t know which way to turn. He was madly scrambling for a line, flailing and dragging down those around him in his hazardous attempts to ground himself. He couldn’t be here, he was unhinged, he was dangerous, and he was caustic.

  
Bruce’s silence cemented Dick’s thesis. There was no place for his brand of hysteria in Batman’s life. Bruce had never responded well to Dick’s outbursts of emotion in the past, why would now be any different. This wasn’t the stage, his pathetic performance wasn’t going to garner him any points. He was high maintenance, and Dick didn’t have the right to ask Bruce to console him like when he was young. Taking a deep breath, Dick bottled up his emotions once again. Locking them away to prevent them from lashing out at those who remained near him. He could do that for Bruce, at the very least. He was good at pretending after all.

  
“I can’t stay here, I don’t have the right too.” Slowly Dick raised his head to look Bruce in the eyes. Dick saw Bruce jolt at his words, even now he was causing him distress. Nothing could be done about that at the moment, the long term results would outweigh this moment of pain.  
He took a step back from Bruce, then another. Moonlight painted the floors with shadowed window panes, as Dick retreated out of the doorway into the hallway. The soft blue light hitting his face revealing a forced smile. A practiced smile. Bruce remained still in the doorway as Dick grabbed the duffle bag he had left in front of the master suite. Then with silent footfalls he stepped out of the spotlight and disappeared.


End file.
